


In the aftermath

by xansayshi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Lots of Crying, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 03:39:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14511741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xansayshi/pseuds/xansayshi
Summary: The world has ended.There is still work to be done.In the emerging darkness on the edge of a deep jungle in Wakanda, Steve Rogers finally lets himself mourn.





	In the aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Major Spoilers for Avengers: Infinity War.

The world has ended.

Everything they’ve ever known no longer applies; there are no instructions on what to do next. They are given a moment, just a snippet of time when there is nothing but confusion and disbelief, when reality feels more like a dream and truth is so much stranger than fiction that you don’t truly believe it. But the moment stretches far too long, like a joke that has fallen flat but only because it was never intended to be funny, was never a joke but merely a statement misinterpreted. 

Then the shock sinks in, bringing with it the understanding that this is real,  _ this is real _ and there’s no going back. There is only then and now. There is  _ before _ ; when the universe was whole, full of life and joy and sorrow and it may have been fucked up in so many ways but it was  _ whole _ , unaltered and allowed to develop and evolve as it may. But now there is  _ now.  _ A now which is just a disappointing echo of before, where what once was whole has been cleaved in two, ripped and torn apart. A now where the very essence of being has been altered and shaken to the core.

There is still work to be done. They have to check for injuries. Gather the fallen. Regroup. There are alien bodies strewn across the ground, the remnants of their ships still crash landed in the forest outside the barrier. 

And so after an indeterminate amount of time (and what is even the point of time, now that they’ve seen it twisted, warped, reversed; used like a chained dog attacking out of fear, bowed almost to the point of breaking, against its will by a stronger power) once the truth settles in, however precariously, the team gets to work. And they are still a team;  they may be fractured and broken, with some new faces in the (painful, unbearable) absence of familiar ones but they have all just survived, more than that they have all  _ endured _ something, be it together or alone or perhaps both, and this trauma that will seep deep into the heart of them forever also unites them in something irrevocable.  

Its nearly dark when they finally get a moments reprieve. They have done all they can do at this point, the bare minimum of post battle cleanup. Everyone is exhausted in every way a person can be exhausted. Crowded together in T’Challa’s throne room (chosen only because of the amount of space, the practical over the emotional, although the absence of his presence is something close to suffocating), the team breaks off into smaller groups. Some gather in search of food, finding comfort in the mundanity of eating, although with much more muted conversation, if any. Some seek solace by themselves while others gravitate towards each other, afraid of what will happen if left alone.

Instead of getting something to eat, or taking a shower, or at least changing out of his bloodied uniform, Steve Rogers turns and walks out the door. He walks towards what once was a normal field, a beautiful open expanse of land that has now been transformed into something ugly and sick. He keeps walking across the battlefield, careful not to step on anything that once was alive, and into the forest.

He doesn’t have to go far but once he’s inside the forest, everything looks the same in the fading light. He spins himself in circles trying to find it, the exact spot where he lost everything,  _ again.  _

He can’t find it and he starts to panic. His breathing speeds up and his chest tightens in a way that it hasn’t done in decades. He needs to find it, needs to stand once more in that spot where he last was whole before he and the universe both were struck down. He knows it's hopeless because he doesn’t know these trees and while the blur of battle is obscuring his memory, his chest remembers what it feels like to be deprived of air with unerring certainty.

In the emerging darkness on the edge of a deep jungle in Wakanda, Steve falls to his knees, forehead pressing into the ground hard, and gropes the forest floor, fingers digging into the rich soil, mingling with ash. The ash is all he’s got left, the last remains of someone he loves. Maybe it's Bucky, he  _ hopes _ it's Bucky so he could touch him one last time, but he knows he could be in the wrong spot so maybe it's Sam or maybe it's Wanda but it's only remains nonetheless; an insulting consolation prize: you tried to save the universe and you lost,  _ you failed, _ but here have this instead. It is his pain made tangible, if only in these moments, the last moments he will ever have with any of them before the wind picks up and takes them away  _ again _ because his whole life just seems to be teeming with loss.

And it is too much for any one soul to take and he is filled with rage and grief and he has been since world war fucking two and here, in this beautiful place made ugly by hate, Steve Rogers lets out a sound of anguish that echoes between the trees and he cries big heaving sobs that wrack his whole body, letting it consume him and he can’t stop. The tears keep coming until he has exorcised his own personal demons: the pain he has carried with him for so long that it’s become a second skin and without it he feels raw, flayed open and he may have thought he was ready to die when he crashed the Valkyrie or when he dropped the shield in the helicarrier but that is nothing in comparison to this feeling now where the light of hope that has carried him this far is nearly extinguished, almost drowned in the deluge of his own tears and it would be so easy to just lay here and let the darkness take him; to just let go of everything because that’s what you do when you have nothing left and it would be so  _ easy.  _

It could have been hours or it could have been days. Steve doesn’t know and he doesn’t care how long he’s been lying on the forest floor, wrung out and wrecked. He thinks that maybe he slept, passed out from the exertion of emotional release, but it is hard to tell. He feels hollowed out, like someone took a spoon and has scooped out everything inside him worth having and refused to put it back.

Steve is in darkness. It blankets him so fully that he cannot see his hand when he holds in in front of his face. Eyes open or closed, it all looks the same. But his eyes are open when he spots a what looks like a glowing orb of blue of in the distance. He blinks a few times to make sure it’s real and watches as it gets closer and closer to him. He watches but he does not move. He watches as the orb no longer looks like an orb but a sort of lantern. He watches as the lantern is set down on the ground and its holder joins him on the ground. He still does not move. They are quiet for a long time. 

“He does not say much.”

Steve is curled on his side facing her and in the glowing lantern light he can see her turn to face him. 

“Bucky. He keeps to himself, or as much as he can with the children always trying to bother him.” 

Steve squeezes his eyes shut. He has laid here for hours, cried until he was numb, and yet there are more tears. He doesn’t think they’ll ever stop.

“That is not to say that he does not talk. He will speak when spoken to and has polite conversations with the villagers. He asks me questions about Wakanda and the vibranium. He is very inquisitive. But he is guarded with his thoughts. But I have spent more time with him than most.”

When Steve opens his eyes again, she is no longer looking at him. The lantern has gone out, or perhaps it was turned off. Shuri is lying on her back, looking up at the sky and Steve tilts his head up and can see stars through the branches of the trees. It is not as dark as he thought. 

“And when he does speak freely, he always speaks of you.” 

She does not use the past tense and for that Steve is intensely grateful. 

“I am sorry he is gone.” 

Shuri turns once more to face him and Steve can see the tears on her face. He knows she means it, although they are not close. Steve did not spend a lot of time in Wakanda. He had only met with Shuri when they were discussing Bucky's decision to go back into cryo, when she had explained to him that he would not be in pain and would be safe under her care. The few days after the fallout of the accords were a whirlwind and once Bucky was asleep, Steve couldn’t bear to stay. Now, he wishes he had stayed longer. 

“My brother is gone, too. I have lost my brother once before but I do not know if he will come back this time.” She takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if we can have them back.” 

If Steve couldn’t see that Shuri was crying, he would be able to tell from the tremble in her voice, the way her breath hitches. He is suddenly overcome with a wave of shame. How selfish he is, to think that his losses are the only ones, that his pain is the most important. 

They lay there together for another handful of moments, both in their own mourning. After a while, Shuri sits up and Steve follows suit, slowly. His muscles are cramped and achy after battle and stiff from a night curled up on the forest floor. Shuri stands and retrieves the lantern, but they don’t need it. There is the faint glow of approaching sunrise on the horizon. Her back is to him when she speaks again. 

“Okoye was the last to see T’Challa before he was gone and do you know what he said to her? He said, ‘Up. This is no place to die.’ And he was right.”

Shuri turns back to him and extends her hand. He takes it, lets her help him up. She reaches up to wipe at his tear stained face as she says, “So we must get up, Steve. It hurts but we are not dead yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> A post IW fic for Steve bc i don’t think that he has ever let himself grieve the way he needs to. Initially meant to be more Steve/Bucky heavy because it’s really fucking rude that every movie Steve and Bucky have ever been in ends with the loss of Bucky and that’s just not fucking fair. I got a little carried away and it turned into a cry-fest because IW gave me E M O T I O N S and I didn’t know what to do with them, so sorry about that. 
> 
> Apologies for any mistakes or typos, this was written in a mad dash to outrun my feelings. 
> 
> Comments appreciated!


End file.
